


Girlfriend

by grelleswife



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, GAY AWAKENINGS, Slow Dancing, Swearing, Trans Female Character, Transphobia, and there was only one bed, both ladies are written as bi, but the transphobes get their comeuppance!, female pronouns for Grelle, mainly verbal harassment, oh my god they were roommates, recognition of true feelings, that soon becomes quite real, they were roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 12:09:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20291230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grelleswife/pseuds/grelleswife
Summary: Best friends and roommates Grelle Sutcliff and Angelina Dalles pretend to be dating in order to irk An's latest ex. An gradually realizes that their relationship is developing into something more.





	Girlfriend

**Author's Note:**

> A sappy little oneshot into which I shamelessly threw as many tropes as I could. Fake dating? Check. They were roommates? Check. And, needless to say, there was only one bed. ;) My last piece for Sapphic Sutcliff Week-- I hope it ends the event on a happy note!
> 
> There is a brief but somewhat unpleasant bit of transphobia near the end, so please be advised!

Their ‘dating’ had started simply enough. An and Grelle had been best friends since freshman year and roommates from the time they were sophomores. Come senior year, they were practically joined at the hip. There was never a dull moment when Grelle was around. She was constantly dragging An off on some wild escapade or other, and she had an unparalleled talent for making An laugh. Near the start of fall semester, An had been invited to a couples party by a few other friends in their class. Unfortunately, the fact that she’d dumped her boyfriend (Diedrich had been cheating on her for months; she could have stabbed him!) was a fly in the ointment. Then, Grelle received a burst of inspiration. “Why can’t I be your date?” she’d half-jokingly suggested. An, who had been moodily scrolling through her Instagram notifications, almost dropped her phone. “Huh?” she’d stuttered.

“Just pretend,” Grelle had hastily assured her. “You deserve to go out and enjoy yourself. We’ll have fun, and you can piss off your ex by making him think you’ve already found another special someone. A very sexy special someone, I might add,” she’d winked. An had cackled with glee. “That’s perfect!” she’d laughed. “Sure, why not?” She’d gone on far crazier adventures with Grelle over the past four years, and this would be a golden opportunity to show Diedrich that she had moved on. They’d had an amazing time, dancing together until the early hours of the morning and taking dozens of glamorous selfies together. Grelle had held her hand during their drive back in the Uber, and An had maintained the contact until they reached their third-floor apartment.

Of course, if they were going to pull this off and fool Diedrich, they’d have to keep the gig going for a while. So there had been more ‘dates’—nights at the movies or out clubbing, marathon shopping sessions at the mall, an unplanned but wildly exciting road trip over Christmas break. There had been gossip (‘I didn’t know An was gay!’), but An didn’t care. Life was too short to get bent out of shape about rumors.

But, as time went on, their relationship began to change.

Inexplicably, Grelle grew steadily more beautiful, though it might be more accurate to say that her beauty moved An in a way it never had before. Her flaming hair and dexterous hands, her swaying hips and muscular thighs—from head to toe, Grelle was bewitching. How had she not noticed that previously? An started borrowing Grelle’s coats and hoodies on a regular basis, and Grelle did likewise with An’s outfits. One Wednesday, Grelle bought her roses “just because,” and An couldn’t help but smile at the hopelessly romantic nature of the gesture. Thus their tradition of surprising each other with red roses was established.

In little ways, their physical intimacy increased. It became commonplace for them to hold hands or walk arm-in-arm on their way to lecture. When watching Netflix on the couch or doing homework together, they’d often end up cuddling. An had even dozed off with her head in Grelle’s lap on a couple of occasions. During an impulsive redecoration project (she loved having an excuse to buy more accessories for the apartment), Grelle had asked, with an uncharacteristic hesitancy, if An would mind pushing her queen-sized bed next to hers. ‘Though …that would mean we’d have to sleep together,’ Grelle trailed off. “That’s fine!” An had laughed. Why was Grelle turning such a vivid shade of red? There was nothing wrong with sharing the bed. At the end of the day, they were just friends. Falling fast asleep in Grelle’s strong arms was perfectly platonic, and who would turn down a chance to wake up to such a stunning face every morning? After that, it had seemed natural for them to start showering together. An was not the least bit flustered by Grelle’s impressive physique, however attractive her broad shoulders and toned abdomen might have been.

Then had come the pet names, Grelle casually referring to her as “Red,” “darling,” and countless other sweet nothings, sometimes while playfully kissing her hand or carding her fingers through her hair. An couldn’t help but be a bit dazzled. Her friend’s performance was so convincing that, if she hadn’t known better, An would have assumed that Grelle was actually in love with her. Well, Grelle was a theatre major, so An figured she took her role as ‘girlfriend’ seriously.

Acting was a tricky art, though, blurring the boundaries between reality and fantasy. Was that why they’d slow-danced in the living room last night when “La Vie on Rose” started playing on the radio? As Edith Piaf’s radiant voice, a relic of a bygone era, filled the air, they’d moved in tandem. They were chest to chest, Anne’s scarlet eyes locked with Grelle’s. The world had been distilled down to the space occupied by An and her…friend. The lighting was dim, giving a soft cast to Grelle’s features. When the song drew to a close, Grelle had leaned down until her forehead gently touched An’s. For a moment, An trembled. She was overwhelmed by a fierce yearning, and Grelle’s lips almost (though not quite) brushed against hers. An had closed her eyes…

And Grelle had jerked away, a stricken expression on her face as she guiltily released her grip on An’s hands. She’d mumbled something about getting ready for bed and hurried away to the bathroom, though An thought she heard her friend (just a friend, her best friend) heave a wistful sigh. While watching her retreating back, a disconcerting realization dawned upon An.

If Grelle _had_ kissed her, she wouldn’t have minded at all.

The next day, neither of them spoke of what had almost happened. An tried to push the incident to the back of her mind, though having her fingers intertwined with Grelle’s while they walked to the nearby Starbucks made that an impossible task. She ruminated on the kiss-that-wasn’t in the line, when they picked up their drinks, and as they left the café. Based on the swarm of fluffy clouds blanketing the sky, it was going to rain soon, and neither of them had remembered to bring an umbrella.

An’s meditations were interrupted by snide whispers emanating from a table outside, where three unpleasant-looking girls from their school were staring at her and Grelle. “I can’t believe they’re holding hands in _public_. That’s so weird,” one of them shuddered.

“And _gross_,” the second chimed in.

“Right? And Grelle’s not even a real woman, just some man pumping his body full of hormones. Can you imagine sharing a bathroom with a pervert like that? I’d be terrified,” their crony sneered.

Grelle tensed, and An knew that the girls’ malicious words had reached her ears, too. An gritted her teeth, scalding rage exploding into life inside her. She let go of Grelle’s hand and wheeled around to face the trio.

“What the _fuck_ did you just say?” she snarled, striding towards them like an avenging fury. The first two girls shrank back, but the third simply crossed her arms, face twisted spitefully. “We just think it’s nasty that you’d run around dating someone like _that_.”

That was the final straw. Yanking the lid off her iced mocha, An hurled her drink at her. Now drenched in coffee, the trenchant student gawped at An. Her companions cowered in their seats, faces ashen.

Walking up to the soaked cretin, An towered over her, eyes flashing. “Don’t—**_ever_**—insult—my—girlfriend—again,” she hissed coldly. “You don’t have a damn _clue_ what she’s been through, or who she is. She’s beautiful and talented, and worth more than all three of you put together. YOU,” An pointed an accusing finger at the horrified girl, “are the disgusting one.” With that, she turned on her heel and tenderly took Grelle’s hand. “Let’s go, love.”

They walked in silence for a while, stopping to sit on a wooden bench on the campus grounds even as a drizzle misted down. Grelle looked as though she’d been poleaxed. “I’m sorry you had to hear all that,” An whispered.

“An,” Grelle said shakily, “back there…you called me your _girlfriend_.” An’s stomach lurched. She had, hadn’t she? But the word had slipped out so naturally…

Grelle grasped An by the shoulders. “I need to know, An. Are we still pretending?” Her voice wobbled slightly on the last word.

An looked up at the woman for whom she cared so deeply, and the remnants of her delusions finally crumbled. “No,” she whispered, tears blurring her vision. “I…” her fingers clutched at the front of Grelle’s shirt, and the tears flowed freely. Burying her face in Grelle’s chest, she wept, “I don’t think I’m straight and I love you and I want to be your girlfriend for real and I want you to kiss me…”

“Happy to oblige,” Grelle interjected hoarsely, cupping An’s face in her hands. This time, their lips met, and An gave a happy, muffled cry as Grelle hungrily deepened the kiss.

Entwined in each other’s arms, they stumbled, half-laughing, half-crying, up to their apartment. An made not the slightest protest as Grelle took her to bed. They flung their coats on the floor in their impetuous haste, seeking each other with a passionate need that could not be denied. The rain pattered softly outside, a tender accompaniment to the women’s union as their lie became the truth.


End file.
